


The touch of your cheek

by triplezzz



Series: Through the years [2]
Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, biting as in wenjun/zhengting and not biting... nevermind, soft biting hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triplezzz/pseuds/triplezzz
Summary: Wenjun comes home to an occupied bed and soft snoring.(aka mindless biting fluff)





	The touch of your cheek

**Author's Note:**

> It's been an eternity and I haven't moved on from that yoho yuehua ot7 photoshoot where Wenjun runs his hand across a sleeping Zhengting's cheek, so this is kinda the result of that ;;

Wenjun comes home to an occupied bed and soft snoring. He looks up from his phone halfway through the door of the bedroom, alerted of the presence from the shadow at the corner of his eye, and muses about the extra pair of shoes he must’ve missed at the entrance.

 

He doesn’t rush, taking off his cap and placing it on the desk, running a hand through his hair as he puts down his bag. Leisurely striding to the bed and standing still by the side for two seconds before making the decision to shrug out of his jacket, draping it over the chair to hang.

 

When he finally climbs in, the mattress is warm and the pillow soft. Zhengting – curled on his side with strands of hair falling over his brows, eyelashes catching the light and casting endless shadows, little bit of teeth peeking from the gap in his mouth – is infinitely warmer, exceptionally softer.

 

Ever so slightly, the glaze in his eyes mellows into a lush green; as indifferent to most, loving to those who knows how to look.

 

He shifts to unfold the blanket at the corner of the bed, untouched still from when he left it, and chuckles at the pair of feet clad in fuzzy peach toe socks. It plays like an old movie in his imagination, the haphazard manner with which Zhengting would kick off his footwear and stumble his way through the corridor, past the living room and into the bedroom to simply crash down, not even bothering to tug at the blanket or remove the garments he claims to dislike.

 

 _‘It suffocates my toes’_ , he had said when he first tried them on, complete with a childish pout at the end of his sentence. Wenjun catches him wearing the pair at least once a week, always making sure to throw a question, a jab or two at the choice, and Zhengting never once says it’s because it was a gift from him. He doesn’t need to.

 

Now he gives a fond sneer as he peels off the socks, throwing them to the floor and covering both of their bodies with the blanket. Wenjun lets out a sigh when he lies back down. The eyes he closes as an invitation to slumber open a mere moment later. He was tired, he is supposed to be tired still, but he also hasn’t seen Zhengting in a week and his sight can’t help the gravitational pull that has it drifting back to just stare and look and see.

 

In his sleep, Zhengting is peaceful and cherubic. Wenjun runs a fingertip over the slight bulge of his cheek, sliding down and back up again to poke at the swell. Gradually, inevitably, it slithers to his lips, sailing smooth across the upper and catching tiny chapped bumps on the lower.

 

Hypnotised by the touch on his skin, he leans closer and steals a peck. Just the barest of press to quench the feeling. He should’ve known better than to give in, however, because a graze is never enough, and soon he’s moving back in to capture those lips.

 

A smile forms against his mouth just as he’s about to pull away. A hand twines and curls around his nape, bringing him close, closer, impossibly closer.

 

“Hi,” Zhengting greets him, voice wispy and rough at the edges where lethargy still clings. The smile that spreads across his face is similarly languid, sending Wenjun back into the trance he has yet to clear away from.

 

He cranes up his neck and narrows his eyes to look at the clock. “You came back so late,” he frowns, brushing aside Wenjun’s hair. Content to continue staring, Wenjun merely hums and leans further into the touch, caressing his hand.

 

Zhengting giggles and taps at Wenjun’s chin with a knuckle, drumming on his face with his fingers. “I’m home.”

 

Wenjun blinks, sparks of warmth alight in his chest. They settle into soothing engulfment over his whole being.

 

“You are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm truly a fluff sucker this was supposed to be a teeny tiny drabble but it kept going on and on until I set a word limit and had it capped at 666 *puts on sunglasses*


End file.
